


Drabbles from Tumblr

by Red Dragon (Red_Dragonn)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Betrayal, Blind Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Closet Sex, Head Injury, Hiding, Injury, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Plots, Prison, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 16:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dragonn/pseuds/Red%20Dragon
Summary: A nice collection of various drabbles, short fics, and writing games from Tumblr, here for your viewing convenience.





	1. Mirage - "alone at last; senseless; hide"

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mild gore, mention of injury, blinded character

Mirage skidded blindly around the corner and felt around with to try and find a door, _any _door; there should be one here, he knew that, but with both optics shattered and one audial offline it wasn’t like finding things he knew were there would be _easy_. 

He couldn’t be sure he was camoflaged, because he couldnt see himself, and while he could always check to make sure his servos were faded out of the visual spectrum to be sure his EM field and other life markers were offline, he couldn’t _check_, he could just feel the switch flipped and hope that none of the delicate circuitry was damaged. Damage could throw off even the best abilities. And the last thing he needed was _more damage_. 

He could faintly hear pedesteps echoing down the hall before he finally found the handle, keyed in the access code he dragged out of short term memory and locked himself inside, fumbling with the handle. He slid down against the door and then sat down, feeling at his faceplates to see how badly the blast had really got him. 

He was lucky- Megatron had _missed_ him, and instead shot the wall right to the left of his face, as he’d aimed towards Mirage’s voice alone and didn’t quite pinpoint him; but it felt like part of his faceplate was melted, and the paint on the side of his head was cracked and tacky and tried to cling to his servoes like adhesive, which was never a good sign. The side of his helm was caved slightly inwards on that side, which was even worse of one. He was lucky he’d ducked in here when he had. It was entirely likely he couldn’t hide that side of his head.

He waited until he could no longer hear movement or sense the slight brush of EM fields in the hall before standing up to feel around for what room he was in. With any luck, he’d recognize its layout after a while. 

He needed to get back to the Ark.


	2. Drift - How dare [you]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: angst, mild self loathing i guess?

Drift gazed down at his hands and felt bad about things. 

He was doing rather a lot of feeling bad about things, these days. The fun part about changing sides was that he had to look back on his successes as failures, and his failures as successes, and it always hit hardest to think about the people he lost- the people he _killed_, too- as all for nothing.

…not all for nothing, that was putting covers on corners. For _the wrong reasons_. They were dead because _he_ was wrong, and _he had been hurting people. Because he was wrong._ They were dead because he fucked up, grandiosely, spectacularly, and for vorns upon vorns. 

He’d only just reported to the Autobot side, as in less than a few orns ago, not even a cycle, and yet most of them seemed perfectly okay with him. Which was weird. 

There were a few who gave him slag, and Drift privately agreed with them. They were right. 

How dare he show his face _here_. 

How dare he turn to their side. 

How dare he _change_. 

He was their enemy. He was a _named _enemy, too, like Starscream or Turmoil or Sixshot- he wasn’t some twelve cycle old MTO with a bug up his aft about killing people, he was a _named enemy_, someone they all _knew_. Someone they _feared_, who they named missiles for. How dare he switch sides, after all he’d done? How dare he think he had a place here?


	3. Driftrod - harsh whisper, tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aha now i have to raise the rating a bit lol
> 
> warning for: plug n play

“Roddy–”

“Drift, shhhshsh, stop–”

“_Roddy_, Ultra Magnus–”

“I _know_,” Rodimus hissed, gesturing at the door, “that’s why we’re in the closet, _shh_–”

“You shush,” Drift hissed back, vocalizer fizzing faintly with pleasure despite his sudden alarm. “What if he walks in on us and you’re still jacked in?”

“He’s _not_ unless you _stop talking_–”

The telltale sound of a door opening and closing shocked them both into silence for a moment, and then Drift gestured frantically at his ports. “_Roddy!”_

Rodimus’s eyes widened with panic before he finally saw sense and carefully twisted the cable before pulling it back out. “_Whyyyy_ would you _say that_, he’s going to–”

The handle of the closet twisted. Drift snapped his hand out to hold it shut, vents flaring.

“_Aaaaaah,” _Rodimus crackled. 

Ultra Magnus pulled at the door. Drift pulled back. Magnus pulled harder, and the door flew open. 

…or, rather. Not quite Ultra Magnus. Whirl blinked his optic at the two of them, and then wordlessly reached over their mortified heads to grab a confiscated gun off the top shelf and left. 

“Oh, primus,” Rodimus sighed, and flopped onto the floor atop a meticulously organized pile of boxes. “Come back, Drift. We weren’t done yet.”


	4. Springer and Impactor - [I] trusted [you]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mention of injury

Springer walked away from the testimonial stand with a heavy heart. Still, it wasn’t like he’d had a _choice. _He hadn’t _wanted _to drive that nail into Impactor’s coffin. 

But he had. 

He hadn’t had a choice. He did what he had to do.

* * *

Impactor sat in his holding cell and angrily scratched at the floor with his harpoon. Springer had sold him out, and for what? His pride? His sense of _justice?_ He was a _Wrecker_, same as Impactor and the others. Where did he get off thinking he was so much better?

It wasn’t like he’d _wanted_ to shoot Springer, or to violate some bullslag treaty with some rusted fleshies. 

But he hadn’t had a choice. He did what he had to do. 

* * *

_It was nothing short of a betrayal, _Springer thought, later. _Everything I did. But everything he did, too_. _I trusted him._

* * *

_It was a betrayal, _Impactor thought, later. _What I did. But everything he did, too_. _I _trusted _him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please pardon all the page breaks! i like them too much uwu


	5. Shockwave - total control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No warnings at all!

Shockwave gazed down at the console and considered his strategy. 

The energon seeding plan was drawn up and expected to go off without a hitch, but the Decepticons back on Cybertron were getting uncomfortable in his absence. Little matter; they would manage without him, and if they didn’t, he would take his place on the winning side later. 

The world stretched out in front of him, ice cold and crystal clear, and in the workings of it he could see fractal patterns that reality would someday take. Even if the pattern shifted while he was away, he would always be able to take control. He was Shockwave, and he held the keys to the universe in one hand and the keys to its destruction in the other. 

He pressed a few buttons and started a few sequences that in a few millennia should ensure his return would be triumphant, regardless of any changes in control or in Cybertron’s political state as a whole, and then he proceeded to the cockpit. 

He had a plan to carry out. 


End file.
